DYING


When the invitation for my 5 year class reunion came in the mail, I almost had a nervous breakdown. You see, Doctor Swole was not always an alpha male pimp with 18 inch pythons. In fact, high school was hell for me, I graduated at 105 lbs and was constantly tortured by my classmates.

After graduation, I spent three years in my basement with my cat, lifting weights and eating cans of tuna like they were junior mints. The only time I came out was to go to night classes at a local college. Since that time, I have built my body into a rock hard temple and am also a self-made millionaire. I couldn't wait to show all the f**kers from high school what I had become

The invitation said "suit and tie", but if you know me, I'm just not a suit and tie kind of guy. I walked in dressed in my usual fur coat, aviators and beater, with a shovel. I also was carrying my homemade protein shake: 1 jar of Natty PB, 2 scoops of cottage cheese, one can of tuna, and a cup of oatmeal, all blended with skim milk. Delicious

I walked in, lats flared and my adrenaline pumping. I was walking around like I owned the place. Two former classmates approached me.

Classmate #1: Hey I remember you! Hey Sully, remember this kid?
Classmate #2: Oh yeah, that's the one we used to strip naked, wrap him in ceran wrap and tie him to the flagpole. You got a lot bigger man. How ya been?

I felt the rage burn up inside of me. I grabbed each of them by the throat and dragged them into a back room, where I beat both of them unconscious with my shovel. "How's it feel? I said hows it F**KIN' feel?!?! " I screamed at their motionless bodies.

Next stop I headed to the bathroom, where I stripped down to my speedo and oiled up my body. "You've been waiting 5 years for this, Doc" I told myself, psyching myself up. I felt like Eminem before the rap battle in 8 mile.

I headed to the stage, pointed to the DJ, indicating for him to start playing my song. "Welcome to the jungle" blared throughout the room, as I began my posedown. Side Chest, Back double, Most Muscular, I showed off every pose in the book. I watched the stunned reaction of male classmates, while women flocked with dollar bills. "Take it off, Doc!" When I hit the crowd with my signature lat flare, the screams were deafening. One girl even fainted.

I put my fur coat back on and started to walk out. Someone grabbed me by the arm. Tiffany Brown. Nicknamed "Pass Around Brown" for her reputation of having the offensive line run a train on her under the bleachers. She still looked the same. Hot face, nice body, huge tits. "F**k do you want?" I screamed at her.

Tiffany: Well, I thought that was really amazing. My husband's body is- well, not that great. I mean, he's rich and all, but its just so hard to find that total package of wealthy and jacked.
Me: <waving my BMW key in her face> Yeah, I guess so.
Tiffany: Oh god, a BMW. Will you take me for a ride?
Me: <keeping it alpha> I want gas money and a blow job out of it.
Tiffany: <handing me a $20> You drive a hard bargain, but I accept!

I took her for a 2 minute ride into one of the busiest sections of Philadelphia and told her to slob my knob.

Tiffany: Here? In the middle of the city? This is so dangerous!
Me: Tinted windows, cupcake. Now suck.

She knew what she was doing. An absolute Hoover Vacuum.

Me: Hey Tiff, remember the time you asked me to the prom, but then when I showed up at your house you had the football team drive by and throw eggs at me, and then your real boyfriend took you to the prom?
Tiffany: <mouthful of dong> Mmmm… Mmmm.
Me: Well, I never got to tell you how I felt about that.

I pulled my dick out of her mouth and jerked off in her eyes. Two shots of baby batter in each pupil.

Tiffany: Oh god, what the f**k! I can't f**kin see!

I opened her door and pushed her into the street, in only her underwear and shoes. Keep in mind this is one of the busiest intersections in Philadelphia.

I pull my beamer about 50 feet from her, take her clothes and pour some gasoline on them, and light a match. Meanwhile, Tiff was stumbling around like Stevie Wonder on crack.

Tiffany: <screaming> YOU F**KIN PRICK! GET BACK HERE!

The glare of the pile of clothes on fire reflected in my aviators.

Me: Revenge is a bitch, Tiff, aint it? REVENGE IS A BITCH!

I pulled into my beamer and sped away, laughing like a madman and beeping my horn. I looked in my rearview and saw Tiff standing there, clueless.

A small smile crossed my face. "Revenge is a beautiful thing," I thought to myself, lighting up a cigar and speeding home.

That's great.

Normally I only use my iPod as a prop to eavesdrop in the gym, but lately, the doc had been pushed to the edge of sanity. As if my alpha presence was not enough, I've been forced to take new measures to let the resolutioners know how big of a F*ck-off stick I carry. Jack boots, eye black, and plated motorcycle gloves let everyone know who the ultra-alpha pimp is. But just yesterday, after a monstrous back day, I was forced to dish out my own brand of personal training.

Finishing my 8th set of strict form wide-grip pull ups, I stopped to admire my swollen lats in the mirror. “God damn it doc, I dont think you could get more cut” I thought to myself as I hit a double front bi pose for myself- and indirectly for the cardio bunnies who had been gathering in awe since I lat-flared into the place. Not wanting the attention to waver, I headed over to the fountain.

Assuming that all the ectomorphs waiting in line were holding my spot at the front, I smash a skinny fat Abercrombie kid's head off the fountain after he took more than 4 gulps
<pro lifters like I know that single mouthfuls are the most effective way to stretch those trips to the fountain, past the cardio bunnies>

Returning to my rack, see yellow bands hanging from the chin up bars. Lowering my aviators to get a better look, I begin to growl “What in the fu-” before being interrupted by a loud “Ehem” from behind me. Rotating around <I choose a side chest pose for all rotational movements, as they show off the big vein running through my Delts> I see a 5'8'', 150 lb manlet standing with his hands on his hips, glaring.

“Excuse me, I'm doing crossfit here, pal”

I paused for a moment<lowering my shades>; trying to understand what the hell crossfit was, why my squat rack had been covered in what looked like expensive streamers, and why this beta male was in the doc's face. Putting my masters in science to work, I used my razor sharp logic to conclude that this man wasn't being aggressive, he was just retarded. I decided not to smash his skull into dust with my clenched gloves.

“I don't know what you're doing here, or why you vandalized the squat rack, but if you choose to leave now, just go, I will let you do so without harm”. I watched a bead of sweat drip off the end of his hooked nose, and then transfixed on his mouth as it curled up into a sneer.

“Hey pal, I pay for this gym too, so you can take you're big steroid muscles elsewhere whi-”<grabbing him> I had heard enough. I grabbed the man by his underarmour shirt and smashed him against the rack. Immediately knocked out, I began to tie him up in his own ropes, and then left him finish his workout- completely ****ed.

I finished my gruelling workout, setting PR's from the adrenaline of asserting dominance. The man who i had crumpled had finaly come to and had his girlfriend at his side, having just arrived to pick him up or something like that. <doesn't even own a car, real alpha, chump.>

As I turned to leave, I see crossfit guys girlfriend storming over to me. “Great, now I have to deal with some cheeky kunt, too”.

Her: “excuse me”
Me: <surveying her not bad body> “what the **** do you want!?”
Her:<stepping in closer> “ I want you to apologize to my.. uh friend”
Me: <alpha> “He can get ****ed, and so can you, piss off”
Her: “Wow, you really are an alpha male... where are you headed? Can I help you carry your bag out?
Me: <throwing my duffel bag full of soiled gym clothes and unwashed whey shakers at her forcefully> “here sweetheart, now follow now, I'm a busy guy.”

With that, I took her out to my Mercedes G Wagen <leaving her 'boyfriend' sobbing like a bitch on the stretching mats> and took her for a ride. She really knew how to work it, screaming “beta” over and over again really took my ego to the next level. Once I dumped a half pint of stubborn throat yogurt in her, I booted her out, threw a rotten shaker cup at her <when you're rich like the doc, that **** is one time use> and sped off over the barrier, cackling like a maniac the entire time.

Looking back, I realize I could have avoided the whole situation if I had just ignored the fellow, and continued my workout in peace. Although it may not be alpha, a warrior must pick his battles, and like most days, the doctor battles the iron. So I am filling my iPod with music, for lifting, and also the fasted morning cardio i'll be running most mornings before work. Brothers, what music keeps you alpha?


but ya, when i walk around, peeps tend to get out of the way

I was invited to a backyard shindig by one of my neighbors. He's not a lifter, and usually I only associate with lifters but I decided to make an exception. I called up Lex and Mongo and we headed to the cookout.

A scrawny ectomorph who was built like Midweststunna was manning the grill, cooking up some greasy double cheeseburgers. I was having none of that. "End of the line, cupcake" I told him. I took the toothpick out of my mouth and threw it into his face, Razor Ramon style. "We own this grill now."

I knocked the greasy burgers over and reached into the cooler Mongo had brought, pulling out three steaks, each bigger than most of the quads of the partygoers. "Hey Mr. O'Sullivan," I said to my neighbor, "Looks like we got the protein we need for meal #6 of today, but I'm gonna need some high GI carbs as well. Why don't you run in the house and get me some potatoes. I know you got 'em in there, you Irish f**k." He looked horrified and said nothing. I took off my aviators and looked him in the eye. "Now."

After wolfing down the potatoes and steak, along with a Mega Shake, I surveyed the situation, and it looked pretty grim. Then I saw her. A tall sexy brunette playing volleyball. "See something you like, Doc?", Lex asked. "Yeah. Something real nice" I said, a cigar hanging out of my mouth.

I headed over to said brunette, flared my lats and rolled up for the approach.

Dr. Swole: Sup baby?
Brunette: Hey there!
Dr. Swole: Who are you here with?
Brunette: This is my dad's house!
Dr. Swole: You're Mr. O'Sullivan's daughter?
Brunette: That's right.

Mr. Sullivan came over at this point. "Please, Doctor Swole, leave my daughter alone, Please!"

I promised him, but about an hour his daughter approached again.

Brunette: This party is f**n' lame! I wish there was some weed around here, or maybe some beers.
Doctor Swole: Well, cupcake, I just happen to have a six pack right here. (I lifted up my shirt and showed her my abs. She melted and immediately went down on me. I banged her twice, and she bled like a paraplegic. "Like a Virgin" indeed.)

Mr. O'Sullivan came out to yell at Mongo, Lex, and I as we left. "You prick! You promised!" I lowered my aviators and glared at him. "At least now you know to never again trust a bodybuilder."

He began talking about pressing charges. Mongo went over and threw him into his front door. His daughter was begging me to take her to prom.

I lit up a cigar and crawled into my beamer. "Let's get some rest boys," I told Mongo and Lex. "Tomorrow is Back Day."

more pls

After setting a new gym record on standing calf raises, I decided that a celebration was in order. I told Lex to round up the crew, because we were going hunting for cardio bunnies. Lex called up our other training partner, Mongo. Mongo is a 6'8" 305 lb. bodybuilding monster. To give you an idea, he takes in 5000 cals while cutting, and has an IV stuck into his arm with protein flowing in at all times to avoid going catabolic.

We headed out to the club, all dressed to the nines. Lex in sweatpants, a PROLAB tshirt, and of course his trusty crowbar. Mongo was wearing leather pants, a white beater, with his lifting belt around his waist. I decided to try some peacocking, and wore a pink beater, complimented by a pink top hat and pink Chuck Taylor shoes.

We ran into a little trouble at the door, when the bouncer told us we weren't properly dressed for the establishment. Mongo stepped up to the plate. Bumping into him, Mongo screamed "You sure about that?" The bouncer, terrified, changed his mind but asked for the $20 cover charge. "Cover charge? Just be lucky you're still alive, punk. We ain't paying a cover charge." Lex and I walked in, lats flaring, while Mongo entered the side door (too big to fit through the front door).

We scoped out the situation, and it looked pretty grim. A club packed with AFC's and a bunch of HB8's and HB9's. I shook my head. As you know, I only pork HB10's.

A few minutes later, a group of HB8.5's approached us.

HB8.5: Hi...ummm... we heard you guys were alpha males and we wanted to know if we could hang out with you tonight?

I fought off the urge to vomit (HB8.5's... gross!) and replied, "You know, you've got a lot of nerve coming over here. Don't you think I'm a little out of your league, cupcake? Now get out of here, you're threatening my alpha status."

I was getting impatient. "Mongo, find me a HB10 NOW!" I snarled at him. Mongo took out his binoculars and scanned the crowd.

Mongo: I see a HB10 cardio bunny at the bar, drinking a martini.
Me: Any bodybuilder activity in the area?
Mongo: I dont see any... just an ectomorph.
Me: I'm going in.

I lat flared it over to this broac, and first approached the ectomorph hitting on her. He was wearing a Jose's Surf Shop T-shirt "End of the road, AFC. Step aside and let me handle this cardio bunny."

AFC: Get lost.

Normally, I would have stomped him into the ground, but with Mongo in the club I felt it unneccessary.

Me: <grabbing the AFC by the throat> Look, you f**kin ecto, you better get the f**k out of here before we have a problem. See that guy over there, that's a 6'8" 300 lb. bodybuilder. If you don't leave this club now, and never come back, the cops are gonna have to call the boys down at Jose's Surf Shop to ID your body.

The AFC ran away screaming and I moved in on the cardio bunny. "Your lucky day, baby. You get to spend the evening with Doctor Swole. Wanna feel my pythons?"

Cardio Bunny: What do you think I am, some cheap slut just looking to get laid? I'm better than that.
Me: Oh I get it. You look at me and all you see is shredded quads, 18 inch pythons, and abs you could do laundry on. I'm more than a piece of meat here.

I turned around to leave.

Cardio Bunny: I'm sorry, did you say 18 inch pythons? My name's Isabelle.
Me: Doctor Swole.
CB: Oh, a doctor? What kind?
Me: A uhhh... gynocologist.
CB: Really? How did you get into that?
Me: Well, I guess you can say I just love pussy.

Lex approached me with a look of concern on his face. "Mongo's IV is out of whey. We need to get him some protein before he goes catabolic and gets into a rage."

Me: F**k. How long do we have?
Lex: 15, 20 minutes tops.

CB: Do you have to go? Well here's my phone number, why dont you call me sometime and we can go to a museum or something.

I looked at her phone number in disgust. "Look cupcake, I'm going on a gynocologist exposition in the Phillipines for the next year. Tonight may be our last night together. We should make the most of it."

CB: If you say so, Doctor Swole.

I took her out to my BMW and we started going at it. I hit it doggystyle and finished off by giving her a pearl necklace (the only jewelry I'll ever buy for a woman.)

I lit up a joint and closed my eyes. Lex and Mongo approached the BMW. "We gotta go now, Doc, Mongo's gonna get catabolic."

I told the cardio bunny to leave the car. "I had a great time, Doc. My gynocologist never treated me like that"

Lex and Mongo roared with laughter. "He's no gynocologist. This is Doctor Swole, one of the most notorious Alpha Males on the planet!"

Cardio bunny had a look of denial on her face. "Tell me thats not true! Are you even a real doctor?"

Me: <taking a puff of the joint> I'm no doctor... but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night.

Lex and Mongo roared with laughter. I stepped on the gas and accelerated away from the cardio bunny. She coughed when inhaling my exhaust fumes, and by the time she stopped I had turned the corner. I wondered if she had seen my ALPHA1 license plate, but it's inconsequential. I'll never see her again. My speedometer hit 95 as I raced to Mongo's for whey shakes all around.

Lex: Going a little fast Doc?
Me: <taking a drag from the joint> Those protein shakes ain't gonna mix themselves.









After our grueling leg day (night), I headed down to the local Outback with my training partner, Lex. A few steaks, mounds of potatoes, cold beer, and laughs were on the agenda for the evening. Getting pussy was not, but when you are THE alpha male, it's always a possibility.

So after the meal, and taking a huge dump in the men's room, we are paying the bill when Lex motions over to the bar. Couldn't believe what I saw. Four hotties laughing it up with a couple of college frat boys. I took off my aviators to get a better look at the guys.

Me: <squinting> Yep, just as I suspected, looks to be 13, maybe 14 inch biceps?
Lex: You thinking what I'm thinking?
Me: <grinning> Lets do it.

Me and Lex do the lat flare walk over to the bar area, sleeves rolled up on our 18 and 17.5 inch pythons, taking a seat nearby the aforementioned crew. I took out of my pocket my "trick money"; $100 dollar bills on each end, with about 25 singles in the middle. One of the girls saw this and flocked (If muscles are #1 on women's wish list, money is number 2 on their sleazy gold digging agenda).

Girl1: Hey baby! You gonna buy me a drink?
Me: <pulling down my aviators a bit> F**k would I do that? Do I look like your boyfriend or something?
Girl1: What's your problem? Figured your cheap ass could spare a drink with all that cash you're carrying.
Me: <condescendingly> Well apparently that's not the case, Shirley Temple. (She was wearing a Temple University sweatshirt) Run along to your skinny frat friends. You aint getting none of this (I flash the wad of cash) and you aint getting none of this (flashes 18 inch python)

<She runs back to her friends. Lex knows what's going on and gives me a wink. Not two minutes later, the whole group returns.>

Frat Boy: I'll be buying all you ladies a drink tonight, cuz I'm a nice guy.
Me: <takes a shot of tequila> More like an AFC if you ask me, chump.
Girls: What's an AFC?
Me: You wanna know what an AFC is? Follow me girls. <Me and Lex walk out the door, not looking back but knowing they will follow>

We take them across the street to an internet cafe. I try to log onto bodybuilding.com but its not working (apparently you have to PAY to use the internet at these cafes? I usually wouldnt be caught dead at one of those places. The depressed emo loser thing doesnt get you hot pussy)

Me: Give me $5 so I can use this piece of s**t
Girl3: You have $2500 in your pocket, why cant you pay for it?
Me: I'm out of here. I cant deal with--
<All of a sudden girl 4 takes a 5 dollar bill out and i put it in the computer. I log onto the Sauce Head sticky>

Me: <grinning> Read up, ladies.

The next few minutes, I hear the girls excitedly screaming "Oh my GOD, those frat guys WERE AFC's! And you guys are Alpha Male PUA's!". I grin at lex, knowing that we would be getting laid tonight. The girls read for about ten more minutes (even putting in 5 dollars to read more) before we all head back to the Outback.

Frat Guy 2: So about that beer?
<Sorority Girl 2 takes the beer he was drinking and pours it over his head.>

SG2: Get lost, you f**king AFC's!
FG2: What the f**K?
SG3: <rubbing my chest> yeah, we found some alpha males. Go back to the frat house and jerk off!

<With that, they leave, my grinning face the last thing they see. Me and lex piled the girls into my BMW and head over to their sorority house.>

That night, I was pleasured for hours by two sorority girls: a cute lil asian and her blonde friend, while Lex had the other two. Lex wakes me up at 7AM, telling me I need to drop him off at home so he can to to work. I walk out the door, sunlight streaming in from the morning sky.

"Wait!" one of the girls screams as I walk out. "are you ever coming back?"
<I sling my jacket over my shoulders and strap my aviators on>
"My mama said to never break promises I cant keep". Me and Lex lat flared back to my beamer and sped away from the house, never to return.

I recently joined a gym at a college nearby my house. I workout on my lunch break at my place of employment, but it's cutting season and I'll be doing cardio on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. I could have ran at the track nearby my apartment, but I would be missing out on all the hot college CARDIO BUNNIES! I knew I would be able to score with em, but it didn't even take me an hour!

So I head into the gym, wearing a PUMA track suit. First I check out the weights section. Typical. Bunch of shaggy haired Ashley Kutcher look alikes doing some chest and bi's, hoping to get that beach body for Cancun. Pathetic. One guy got a SPOT for benching 135x1. Amazing. I was going to head over and load up 315 and rep it for 12, but I had bigger fish to fry.

On to the cardio area. There's 16 treadmills. About 10 were occupied; 7 by HOT college girls, 2 by mediocre girls, and 1 fatty. Oh yeah, and like 3 fat guys. I do some stretching in front of the machines before removing my tearaway pants and jacket. Underneath is a pair of green shorts and a beater. I notice the ladies eyes shifting towards me as I pile on a treadmill. I put on my IPOD, but do not listen to music. (This is a trick of mine; whenever I work out I put my IPOD on because I don't like to be bothered, but I never play music I like to listen people compliment me when they don't think I can hear them). "Look at the veins in his arms!" and "Check out those legs, damn!" were two of the better comments. I ran for 30 minutes and got off, walked to the front of the treadmills and did some stretching. Then I made my move. Lifting up my beater to wipe the sweat off my face, I gave the ladies a shot of the goods. I heard one girl even say "Vicki, Look! LOOK at that!". Then I hear a loud BOOM. One girl had fallen OFF her treadmill (whether it was because of seeing my body or not I'm unsure, but I'm willing to bet that was the cause). She hit her face on the belt and had a bloody nose. I got the f**k out of there.

I was heading back to my car, satisfied that I had planted the seed for future hookups when I hear some footsteps behind me. "Um, sir?" I turn around and see a sexy 5'5" blonde with some nice ta-tas.

Me: Yes?
Hot girl: I saw your body in there, and umm I was wondering if I could get some advice? I'm headed to South Padre Island for Spring Break and I really want to look good
Me: Step into my office baby, and we'll see what we can do.

<I unlock the doors to my BMW and she climbs in>

Hot girl: Wow, this is a really nice car.
Me: Yeah, its alright. I auctioned off my Porsche and gave the profit to the tsunami relief fund. I miss that car.
HG: That is so sweet! Oh my god...Are you crying?
Me: <trying to cry fake tears> Yeah well, its just so awful what happened to those people.

<Note: I've never donated a PENNY to charity, nor have I owned a porsche>

Me: But we were talking about you. Why don't you take off that shirt so I can see what we're working with.
<I thought it would be difficult to talk her into this, but she never hesitated. I surveyed her body saying "mmm, hmmm" and "okay"

Me: You're gonna have to take off those pants. I NEED to get a good overall look at you.
HG: Is that really necessary?
Me: Off with the pants, sweetie.

<She takes off her pants, and I notice that 'HOTTIE' is printed across the ass. At this point, I know I'm getting some. Girls that wear pants that say 'HOTTIE' or 'ANGEL' or 'BABY' on the pants are HUGE whores.>

Me: Well, I'll tell ya what. I'll give you my ab routine free of charge.
HG: Really? You'd do that for me?
Me: Yeah I'll just email it to ya.
HG: That's so nice of you. How could I ever repay you?
Me: <surveying her body> I can think of one way <I point to my dick and she goes down>

This girl was a Hoover ****in' vaccum. Obviously a sorority girl, she stops after 25 minutes and says "how long is this gonna take?" (I had slammed my girlfriend at about 4PM so I wasn't blowing any time soon)

Me: You want the ****in' ab routine or not?

<She goes back to doing her job, and about 45 minutes later she gets a serving of protein down her throat>

Me: Alright. I'm out.

<I throw her pants and shirt outside the car. She starts getting dressed.>

HG: Email me that routine, K?
Me: Sure.
HG: When are we gonna hang out again?
Me: Ummm'
HG: Come on, give me your number.
Me: <putting on my avitaor sunglasses> Look baby, you don't wanna get messed up with me. I'm an outlaw. A rebel.
HG: But, i dont even know your name and--

With that, I peel out into the night. All in a day's work. All in a day's work.

As many of you know, I joined a college gym due to the hot poon there. From my six years of higher education (four years of undergrad and two years getting my masters), I came to realize there is nothing quite like porking college broads.

On late Saturday afternoon, I strolled into the fitness complex wearing a fur coat with "DOCTOR SWOLE" embroidered on the back (My gym buddies nicknamed me Doctor Swole back in '03) over my shorts and wife beater, toothpick in my mouth. Taking off my aviators, I look over to the squat rack, and I don't like what I see. A frat boy. I already know he's not squatting.

"Curls" I said to myself, muscles flaring as I walk over to the rack. Frat boy is in mid set, groaning with each curl, 10 lb plates on each side. 65 lbs?!?!? You're curling 65 lbs in the squat rack? Joe Gold would be turning in his grave.

While frat boy is getting his 4th or 5th rep done, I take off the 10 lb plate, and walk over to the other side and do the same.

Frat boy: <pissed off> Hey man, what the f**k was that?
Me: This is the squat rack, *NSYNC. You wanna curl, get your chicken chest on one of those swiss balls and pick up the plastic dumbbells, Sally.
Frat boy: Who the f**k do you think you are? Are you even a student here?
Me: <taking off my fur coat and resting it on the leg press> Alright, Timberlake. You had your chance. I tried to be a nice guy and I'm going to tell you one more time. No curling in the squat rack. Now get out of here before we have a problem.
Frat boy: Man, f**k this.

<Frat boy leaves the area. I load up the plates with 5 45 lb plates each side and rep it for 15. (I decided to take it easy, didnt get enough sleep last night.) Some cardio bunnies come over and start to make small talk.)

Cardio bunny 1: We thought that was really brave how you stood up to that guy. He thinks he owns this gym and he always makes rude comments to us!
Me: <still wearing my aviators - I rarely take them off> Just doing my job ladies. I'd love to chat, but as you can see, my quads need to be punished.
Cardio bunny 2: <biting her lower lip> Well, if you feel like it when you are done come over to Harrison Hall. Room 418.
Me: <agitated> Look hunny, I'm a busy man. I'll see what I can do. Get away from me.

I finish up my workout, put my fur coat back on and head over to Harrison Hall, Room 418.

CB2: Glad you could come.
Me: <stripping down> Yeah well, I need to shower up.
CB2: <Staring at my body, mouth open> Can I come with you? Please? Meet us in the third shower from the left in 5 minutes.
Me: <grinning> Us? If you say so <CH2 runs away from her computer and into the hallway. I check her away message>

"OmG HoTTeST GuY eVeR on HaRRiSoN 4Th FLooR BeST aBs eVa aNd HuGe BiCePTs!!!!!1111"

I head down to the showers, wearing only a towel and my aviators. Girls I passed in the halls stared, but I just bicep flared by them. Opening the shower curtain, I found the three cardio bunnies already soaping themselves down.

CB3: You're late.
Me: Well Doctor Swole is here now girls.
<The three cardio bunnies proceed to soap me down, and kiss me all over. When all said and done, I blew my load all over one of their tits. I step out of the shower and walk back to room 418. I glanced at the clock. 6:45?!?! I had to meet a client at 8 for dinner, and would have to speed to my condo, get dressed, and drive straight to the restaurant to make it in time. I threw on my fur coat and grabbed my gym clothes in hand (no time to get dressed) and start jogging down to my car. About 20 Harrison Hall hotties followed.

Hottie4: Doctor Swole, where are you going?
Me: <running to my BMW in only my fur coat> Gotta go baby, the doctor is a busy man.

The Harrison crowd, about two dozen strong, continued to chase me to my car, screaming and crying. I felt like one of the Beatles. I climb into my BMW and peel away.

Hottie5: <crying> DOCTOR SWOLE DONT GO!!!

I decide to give the girls a thrill, and throw my gym clothes out my sunroof. They scream and come running to the pile. Two girls were having a tug of war with my beater, while I saw another on her knees, sniffing my sweaty boxer briefs.

I lit up a cigar. "Doctor Swole, you've done it again," I thought to myself, a small smile crossing my face as my car sped east on I-276

It's like some weird amlgamam (not a word, I know, but there's a word that's something like that) of Doc Tre and Bukdow...I would swear on my life that it's fake and obviously it's fake....except that I don't think Doc Tre and Buk are fake and thus there's a possibility there's someone out there that thinks something like this could be real? Does that make sense??

These stories were concocted about 7 years ago, I believe, and I get a DadBoner vibe from them.

Maybe the creator of DB used to frequent bodybuilding.com at some point.

There was some other dude who would go on there and post stories like these. Even feuded with Doc Swole at one point.

Trolls today are such amateurs, man.

Each spring, I throw a huge bash at my mansion. Only bodybuilders and cardio bunnies are allowed to attend, and they are flown in from all over the world to be there. This year, I was determined to make it the most legendary of them all, and I think it’s safe to say I succeeded.

I called up ON Whey and had them bring in two dumptrucks full of protein powder, which was dumped on my front yard. Also, I called up a supplement company in Ukraine, makers of a top secret creatine which is 700% more volumizing than creatine monohydrate.

Each bodybuilder who showed up was required to bring with him a minimum of 10 cardio bunnies. I sent my girlfriend out of town with her friends for the weekend.

The party was a huge success. I was sick of going out to the club and seeing AFC’s in Abercrombie tshirts and flip flops with 12 inch biceps peeking out. No, this was different. Everyone was sledding down the mountains of whey and having a good time. Lex gave me a thumbs up before crushing up some ZMA pills and snorting them off a random cardio bunny’s tits.

I lat flared it over to the bar area (I hired a bartender for the night’s festivities) “Creatine and vodka, on the rocks” I snarled at him. He reached under the bar and pulled out a jar of CELL-TECH. I grabbed him by the shirt. “I want the good stuff. Get that **** out of here.”

At this point I was approached by a smokin hot cardio bunny. “Doc-tor Swole, I presume” she said in an Eastern European accent. “I hear you are zee Alpha Male, no?

Me: “You heard correctly.”

CB: “I am so very thirsty. Vould you get me a drink?”

Now, any AFC off the street would have fallen for this, but not Doctor Swole. I knew her game; there’s very few of them in the world but it was obvious I was dealing with an Alpha Female, very rare (less than .001% of human females are Alpha Females). This was obviously a **** test.

Me: “Get it yourself. I’ve got a party to attend to.” I walked away from her and climbed into the hot tub with another group of 7 or 8 cardio bunnies, who proceeded to feel on my 18 inch pythons. The Alpha Female, after getting her beverage, joined me in the jacuzzi.

CB: “You have zee big arms, Doctor Svole.”

Me: “Pretty big jugs you got yourself, cupcake.”

CB: “Aye. I hate zis music. Vould you mind going to zee DJ and requesting a change for me?”

I raised my eyebrow. A second **** test? I really was dealing with an Alpha Female. “You don’t like the f**kin music, go ask yourself. What do I look like, a f**kin AFC here?” I snarled at her.

About a half hour later, she approached again. “Doctor Svole, I vant to get it on now. Meet me in zee upstairs bedroom and you can put it in my ass.”

To your AFC off the street, he would jump at the opportunity. But I could see this was a THIRD **** test, and a very good one at that, which can be executed only by Alpha Females.

I pulled her close to me and spoke right into her face, close enough that she could smell the natty PB and tuna fish on my breath. “Look. If I give you the pleasure of sleeping with me, its gonna be on my terms, when I want it, how I want it, what positions I want it. Got that?”

She jumped into my arms. “Amazing! You are the first to pass all three of my **** tests. **** me, Doctor Svole!” We went at it for about an hour in the pool house.

CB: Doctor Svole. We are perfect for each other. Alpha Male, Alpha Female, it’s a match made in heaven! Let’s get married and have children!

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This supposed Alpha Female had turned AFC within a matter of minutes. “What do you want from me? Diamond earrings? A gold ring that says ‘Mrs. Doctor Swole’?”. I lit up a cigar. “You want a minivan so we can pick up the kids at soccer practice, take ‘em to Denny’s? You’re looking in the wrong place, cupcake.”

CB: But Doctor Svole, I love you!

I took a puff of my cigar. “Look baby. We’re different people. You want a white picket fence and a garden, I want wife beaters, cardio bunnies, fast cars, big pythons, crowbars. It wouldn’t work.”

I threw on my aviators and flared my lats.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a party to attend to.” I walked back to the party while she sobbed softly in the pool house.

Last night, my ex finally convinced me to meet her ex-boyfriend of 3 years. They have been friends since high school, dated through college, and broke up in November but are still good friends. So I agree, if I can wear a wifebeater, I tell her. She obliged.

So we roll up to Richard’s house. Holy f**k this guy was loaded. No wonder she dated him. I mean, I have my own place and a BMW but this cat must be swimming in dough. I didn’t expect this but shook it off. Richard answers the door in a Donovan McNabb jersey, with what appeared to be 12” biceps peeking out. First he greeted Jen (my girl) and then he saw me. Though being a few inches taller than me, it was obvious from the first look that I intimidated the f**k out of Richard.


“How ya doin, Dick,” I said, shaking his hand and feeling
his bones crunch beneath my grip. He cried out in pain and invited us in.

Jen and Rich get to small talking. He’s showing her pictures of the tsunami (he’s with the red cross and helps with disaster relief…
sleazy way to get pussy if you ask me), then they discuss the presidential debate and the Iraq elections. *Yawn* Finally while watching the super bowl, Rich mentions something about football players being huge, and how its “no surprise since they are all juiced up” Jen mouths “No” to me, but can already see I’m about to spout off.

Me: So you think a little juice makes you huge?
Rich: <nervous laugh> Well, it certainly helps out
Me: Lemme tell you something, Rich. You think if you incorporated some D-Bol into your Elliptical Cardio and Nautilus Machine you
would be Ronnie Coleman?
Rich: What’s D-Bol? Who’s Ronnie--
Jen: Guys, guys please

From there, Rich decides to serve us “Dinner” or as I call it, CATABOLIC DELIGHT Are you kidding me? Some Middle Eastern Bread, smelly dip, and cous-cous?!?!?

Me: <staring at the table> What the f**k is this?
Rich: It’s pita bread, hummous, and---
Me: No, I mean, WHAT THE F**K is this? <I’m fuming at this point>
Jen: <nervously> I THINK what he needs is some protein. He’s big into bodybuilding and needs to get his protein intake in.
Rich: <nervous> Just go in the kitchen man… take… take whatever you want.

I rampage through Rich’s cabinets, settling on a gallon of milk, peanut butter, and oatmeal. Rich watches in horror as I sit transfixed on his couch, shoving food down my throat and slugging my milk gallon.

after about 20 minutes... I break the silence..

Me: “T.O. is a f**king warrior tonight, isn’t he Rich?”
Rich: Yeah. Look, I wanted to apologize about the food. I had no idea and
I’ll do anything to make it up to you.
Me: <mouthful of food> Anything?
Rich: Anything
Me: I want to armwrestle.
Rich: Armwrestle? <laughs> Come on, what are we, 10 years old?

Rich could see that I meant business though, and he came over to the table and rolled up his sleeves. I fought not to laugh at his
12 inch pipes. With my girlfriend screaming “Please don’t do this!”
I slammed Rich’s arm into the table as he started screaming
“OH GOD WHAT THE F**K DID YOU DO!?!?!”.

“I’m done with this s**t,” I said, grabbed my coat and Jen and said we need to get out of here. “We can’t leave him like this!,”
Jen cried. “SHUT THE F**K UP AND GET IN THE CAR” I snarled and pushed her out the door, slamming it behind me.

I think it's safe to say Rich will be staying away from my girlfriend
from now on.




definitely not as good as the others, but still lol'd. especially at the Ronnie Coleman part.

Had to be done.

#threadworthy

Pretty sure I posted all of the stories. :(

I'm THIS CLOSE to making a Doc Swole Twitter account though. I wonder if the guys from Bodybuilding.com would believe it.

Could I pull it off?!

So I head out to this party last night. Wife beater, Jeans, Aviator Glasses, and my gallon jug of water. I take a spot on the couch, staring at the TV and slugging my H2O. Chick approaches me to talk, and the following ensues:

Her: You want a beer or something?
Me: <Condescending Sneer>
Her: Alright fine you dont have to be a dick about it.

I was acting ALPHA, but came on too strong, so as she was walking away i said "yeah, well, i actually drink this because i'm really into bodybuilding and i'm trying to get super cut up". and she's like "yeah i can tell you have a really good body". i start rubbing my abs and saying how hard i worked them today, and she asks if she can have a peek. at this point, i start speaking louder. "my ABS... you want to see MY ABS? i dont know if i can SHOW MY ABS in the MIDDLE OF THIS PARTY"

All other chicks flocked as i lifted up my beater and revealed those six prize ripples. then some 5'10" 140 lb 13 inch bicep pretty boy shows up.

Pretty Boy: <lifting up shirt> what, you think you're special? you're nothing
(he had a decent six pack but no muscle, i call them SKINNY PACKS>

I take a big slug of my water jug and plot my next move. I ripped off my beater and hit the crowd with a lat flare. Excited

Shrieks and cries of "oh my god, they look like WINGS!" ripped through the party. pretty boy then proceeds to show his abs again (what else is he gonna do; flash his 13" water pistols?"). I look at him, take another slug of water and say "Game over." With a side tri and back double that will be talked about for ages, I got a standing ovation from the crowd.

Ladies flocked to feel up my ripped body as pretty boy stood there. All I could do was laugh.

So at this point I knew I had my pick of any girl at the party. I approached a sexy brunette and invite her to the upstairs bathroom with me, so i could "show her my biggest muscle". 10 seconds after closing the door she was slobbering my knob. As I finished, I walked straight out the front door, jacket over one arm and gallon of water in the other. "Call me!" she screams as I pile into my car. "We'll see" I respond (Keeping it alpha, letting her know she's nothing to me) and speed off into the night.

So after hammering my delts, and ripping a huge protein fart as I strolled passed a group 25%+ body fat guys impressed with their ability to unrack my pre-warmup weight, I spy 4 CB10s struggling with the inner thigh machine adjustment.

I chuckled when one of the obese crew runs over to try and help. I look over at Lex and cast a WTF smirk.

Me: <grinning> Those guys could only help if they were working over a dozen jelly donuts.
Lex: You thinking what I'm thinking?
Me: <Laughing> Always.

Me and Lex do our usual trap roll and slowly make our way over carefully to avoid immediate eye contact with the targets.

Fat-ass is still trying to figure out the machine when we sit down at the concentration curl bench across from the ladies.

Both Lex and I look over and we recognize the universal, "Help, get this sleazy loser away from me!" plead. But we ignore it. Eventually, one of the CB10s approaches us.

CB1: Hey, can you help us out a bit. We're new to the gym and this machine is giving us fits.
Me: <pumping out a set of concentration curls with 75lb DBs> Why the F**K would I want to do that? Isn't your boyfriend providing assistance?
CB2: What's your problem? I figured you could easily help us with this since you obviously spend a lot of time in the gym.
Me: <condescendingly> Well obviously not on that pussified machine. No real man would even think of using that piece of crap. Now run along with the other CBs and have donut boy do your bidding. You aint getting none of this (I flare my lats) and you aint getting none of this (flashes my 18 inch python)

<She runs back to her friends. Lex chuckles knowing the next move.>

Not 45 seconds later, the whole group returns. Followed by one of the michelin men.

FA1: If there is anything you need, I'll help you ladies out because I'm a nice guy.
Me: More like an OPA if you ask me, chump.
CB3: What's an OPA?
Me: You wanna know what an OPA is?

< I motion over to one of the wifi stations in the gym and the 5 of us walk over to the PC, leaving fat-ass in our wake. The three CBs huddle around the monitor.>

Me: I log onto and pull up the OPA. <grinning> Read up, ladies.

The next few minutes, I hear the girls laughing "Oh my GOD, those fat asses ARE OPAs! And you guys are Alpha Male SMFs. I grin at Lex, knowing that we would be getting laid tonight.

We all head back to the main part of the gym.

FA1: So you ladies still need help?
<CB4 2 spits in his face>

CB3: GTFOOH, you f**king OPAs!
FA2: What the f**K?
CB4: <stroking my bicep> We found some AMSMFs and we don't need any f**king OPA assistance.

OPA3 looks over and from the his 12lb sets of DB curls and realizes that discretion is the better part of cowardice and stays away.

Lex and I spend a good hour in the coed gym hot-tub with all 4 CB10s. The OPAs walked in ready to take a dip, but one look from me sent them immediately back into the dressing room. We agreed on splitting up the ladies: 2 a piece and head to one of the CB10s condos.

I pleasured both of my CB10s for 4 hours and awake at 6am. One of the CB10s aroused from her orgasm induced slumber.

CB4: Doc Swole! You can't leave. Will I ever see you again.

Me: I doubt it, I never dip the wick in the same place twice. It'll ruin my reputation.

With that I slam the door and climb into my BMW. Lex already in the passengers seat ready to go.

Lex: Mongo called my at 4am. He ran out of whey and his nitrogen is out of whack.
Me: Well f**k, why didn't you wake me?
Lex: From the noise those CB10s were making, I didn't think you wanted to be disturbed.
Me: <laughing> Good call.

..with that we grinned and I sped out of the driveway toward Mongo's.

Another day, another conquest for Doctor Swole.

These still crack me up.

miss u, doc

Ha!

miss u, doc

Loved these, guy's an internet legend.